


Baby, It's Cold Outside

by theclaravoyant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AOS Advent 2016, F/F, Shield-Free AU, aos au, bioquake, light T innuendo only, meet cute, shameless Christmas fluff, skimmons - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 05:12:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8877334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: When their plane is grounded, Simmons helps out a fellow passenger and both of them get more out of a chance encounter than they'd ever expected.





	

for [AOS Advent 2016](http://aosadvent2016.tumblr.com/). Prompt: Chill

You may also be interested in my [Skimmons Drabbles & Ficlets collection](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5864041/chapters/13516015) (contains both platonic and romantic Skimmons/Bioquake)

-

“ _Grounded?”_  

Simmons gritted her teeth, trying not to take out her irritation on the poor desk clerk, who’d probably had a thousand people yell at them today. 

“Yes ma’am, there’s a storm over the coast so this airline has elected to ground their planes until further notice.” 

“Is it possible to get onto another plane?”

“Not tonight, I’m afraid ma’am.”

“Of course.” She sighed, and bit her nail. Of course, the thousand people before her would have asked exactly the same question, and other airlines were probably preparing to make the same decision. The storm was bad. That was actually one of the reasons she was so eager to get off the ground and away from it before she got stuck. So much for that plan. 

“If you give me a phone number, I can let you know if there’s a cancellation?” the clerk informed her, and so Simmons had her phone number noted down, and wandered away. She couldn’t really leave. She’d already checked out of her hotel room and it was due to be filled soon, and with the season as busy as it was, it would be difficult to find a room elsewhere. Even if she could leave, though, she didn’t want to: she could be contacted any moment about a cancelled flight, and just in case, she’d have to stick close enough to claim it. 

_Airport it is._

So she wandered up and down the stores, window-shopping. And then she wandered again. She bought a packet of crisps and ate it as slowly as she could bear, and scrolled social media and news until her wifi session timed out. Then there was nothing to do but wait.

She made a game of taking a long time to make her way back to the front desk. Her phone still hadn’t rung, but maybe – just maybe – if she _checked…_

When she reached the check-in area, her heart sunk. A small planeload of people had gathered around the nearby seats, most having to take positions on the floor. Some of them were red-faced, others anxious, and yet others doing their best to all but fall asleep where they sat. Airline staff in orange vests were finishing an announcement that Simmons didn’t catch, but if the listless moans and faces of the audience were anything to go by, the news was not great. 

Simmons jogged up to the edge of the crowd, where a young woman in a vest and jeans that reminded Simmons of a safari photographer was biting her nail and staring intently at the screen of her phone. 

“Sorry,” Simmons interrupted. “What’s going on?”

Safari-girl huffed. 

“The airline’s not covering our transfer fees and they can’t provide enough rooms for everyone!” she explained, her voice strained with stress. 

Simmons rolled her eyes. 

“That’s what we get for flying budget, I suppose.” 

“I don’t know what to do!” the girl continued. “I can’t afford the transfer fees. I’ve got five bucks to my name! This is ridiculous!” 

Simmons frowned.

“What are you doing there then?”

“Checking the ticket contract. Or, trying to. Argh, this is all my fault, too, that’s the worst part of it.” She shook her head. Then looked up from her phone, and her attention seemed to snap. 

“God. Sorry! So rude. My name’s Daisy.” 

Simmons blinked, awed by the stranger’s eyes; dark in colour, but bright in spirit, sparkling like tiger-eye, like they might just light up gold in different light. Frustration seemed to have faded from her being, and when she smiled her face lit up. _Daisy._ She could see that.

“What’s yours?” Daisy prompted.

“Ah. Simmons. Well, Jemma Simmons. Or Jemma, you know. Either one is fine.”

 _Please stop talking._ Simmons shut her mouth. Daisy laughed briefly, and looked her up and down. For a moment, Simmons felt like blushing, but it seemed she was not being checked out in the end, just sized up.

“You look like you have a back-up plan,” Daisy assessed. 

“Not really, actually.” 

“You have chips. That’s better than some.”

“Oh. Yeah. I’ve been here for _hours.”_

“So’ve I, but like I said. Five bucks. One bag of chips and I’m officially broke.” 

“Oh, no! Not all day, surely? That’s terrible! Let me get you something!” Simmons insisted. 

“Nah, I’m alright. Was planning to eat on the plane, that’s all.” 

“Well, obviously that’s not happening, is it? Ridiculous. Come on. I’ve got foreign currency to use up anyway. Please?”

Daisy clenched her jaw, determined not to give into hunger or boredom at Simmons-Jemma-Simmons-Jemma’s expense. But really, she thought, what was it costing her? There was nothing else to do anyway, and she had that currency to spend. And those chips were probably stale by now but Daisy couldn’t help her eyes falling to them again.

She sighed gratefully and conceded. 

“Fine. But nothing too fancy okay? None of that spaghetti bolognaise or anything.”

“Super budget, I promise.” 

Simmons grinned, and Daisy found herself smiling too as she hoisted her bag back onto her shoulder and they made their way to a nearby café. As they chatted about work and travel and all things in that vein, Simmons bought tea and muffins, and a wrap that she insisted on splitting with Daisy. With a grateful, flattered flush in her cheeks, Daisy kept her eyes on her tea as Simmons arranged their food around them. 

“Thank you,” Daisy said, eventually. “I really shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“You’ve been stranded starving in an airport for hours,” Simmons pointed out, “I’d be just about ready to tackle somebody.” 

Daisy snorted, and looked Simmons up and down again. 

“You? Tackle somebody?”

“Oh yeah. Hold on and wait it out, that’s my strategy. Just grab on, like a bulldog. Grr.” Simmons pulled a face and giggled. And kept giggling. And had to stuff some muffin into her mouth to shut herself up. Daisy’s eyes sparkled.

“Yeah okay. I can see it now. I think I’d take a more direct approach. Just deck ‘em. Straight up punch them in the face. Boom.” She mimed punching someone. “Then less chance of them dropping the food you’re tryna steal.”

“Ah, true.” Simmons nodded sagely. 

“Pity we can’t deck the airport staff though.” Daisy pouted. “I mean at this rate, I’m going to be sleeping in the airport til their replacement flight tomorrow.” 

“They’re putting on a replacement flight?” 

“Yeah. There’s that at least. They reckon the storm’ll basically pass over the next thirty hours or so.” 

“Thirty hours?” Simmons felt her spine whither at the thought. They’d already spent all of one day here. She couldn’t imagine spending another, especially if she’d have to sleep on chairs. She clenched her fist and pulled out her phone. 

“Oh no.” Daisy blanched. “What are you doing? No helicopters! No private jets! Do you have a private jet? Actually, I could go for that -” 

Simmons held up a finger and Daisy shut her mouth, chewing her muffin anxiously as Simmons had a conversation with the person on the other end of the line. 

“Hello, my name is Jemma Simmons, I checked out this morning – no, not lost anything, there’s just some trouble with the planes – the storm, yes! Terrible isn’t it? – Ah, I know…but anyway, I was wondering if you might have a room available? – Of course, I understand – yes, that’s no problem – there wouldn’t happen to be two by any chance? No? Ah, well my old room will be fine then. Just brilliant, you’re amazing. Thank you!”

She hung up, and smirked at Daisy, who frowned, suspicious. 

“What did you just do?”

“Got us a room! The people who were supposed to be coming in to my room have been grounded on the other end too, so they’re not losing anything from it. It’s a single room, but we can make do, right? Better than these God-awful chairs, at least.” 

“You are literally the greatest person alive.” Daisy sighed, her eyes falling closed for a moment. “I really hope you’re not an axe murderer.” 

“Any other night, sure,” Simmons said, mock-apologetically, “but you know how it is. Had to leave my axe in checked baggage.” 

“Darn.” 

“Yeah.”

“So I guess this means we’re getting a room? So we have to somehow get to the room?” Daisy pulled out her phone. 

“I couldn’t possibly ask you to pay for a cab or anything!” Simmons gasped.

“Nah, it’s all good. I’ve got this friend, Hunter, he can come get us. It’s the least I can do. Don’t worry, he’s not working tonight and he owes me a billion favours.”

Daisy smiled, had a brief but insistent conversation with Hunter, and shook her head, amused and pitiful, as she hung up. 

“He was just about to booty-call his ex,” she explained. “I think I did him a favour. Looks like the tally's back up to me.” 

They finished up their food with a grateful gusto that had been absent before, and made their way to the front of the airport where an old bronze Camero soon showed up to take them to Simmons’ hotel. Hunter – a rough, but kind-looking man – looked Simmons over as Daisy put their bags in the boot, but as soon as Daisy came back into sight, grinned at her.

“Banging for roof?” He raised an eyebrow suggestively. 

“Shut up, Hunter, she’s just a friend.” 

“Mmmmmmmmmm-hm. I’ve heard that one before.”  
  
Daisy rolled her eyes and opened the door for Simmons.

“Don’t mind him,” she said, and prayed silently that Simmons couldn’t see her blush, or at least not recognise it for what it was. Perhaps she could blame it on the biting cold, which was already stealing the feeling from her face. Simmons, for her part, was apparently pretending not to have heard, but as they sat in the car, feeling it sway and lift as they made their way onto the highway, they sat in silence, both studiously staring at their own laps. 

Hunter reached for the stereo, only to jump right into the chorus of

_“POUR SOME SUGAR ON ME”_

Daisy squeezed her eyes shut. Simmons felt like sinking in her seat, but didn’t want to give herself away. Hunter bit his lip to stop himself laughing, and changed the station. There was a near-audible sigh of relief in the back seat when the tail end of considerably more appropriate _I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas_ warbled over the speakers. But then it ended, and another familiar song began. 

_I really can’t stay_

_Baby, it’s cold outside_

_I must go away_

_Baby it’s cold outside_

At first, they couldn’t look at each other. Then they just had to - to see if the other person was feeling as awkward as them, to test the waters of asking Hunter to change the station again. As the song went on, it became too awkward to change it without acknowledging the tension in the air between them. So instead, Daisy began to sing along – mumbling, at first –

“Hnhh it’s bad out there….no cabs to be hnhh there…”

It felt like walking out onto thin ice, but then Simmons joined in.

“I ought to say no, no no…” 

“Mmm if I move closer?” 

“At least I’m gonna say that I tried-“ 

“What’s the point in hurting my pride?”

“I really can’t stay…Ah but it’s cold outsiiiide!”

Drawing the last note out, Simmons met Daisy’s eyes. And smiled. 

“I’ve got to get home…” 

“Oh baby you’ll freeze out there...Shouldn't that be your line?”

Simmons grinned in response as she sung the next line without missing a beat, and they continued this way. Their glances turned into singing to each other, turned into facing each other, and overacting, and eventually they crooned in unison: 

“BABY IT’S COLD …. OUT … SIIIIIIIIIIDE!”

Without the music to hide behind, their confidence began to fade, but Daisy took a deep breath, and reached across to Simmons' lap for her phone. 

“What are you doing?” Simmons wondered, her tongue and fingertips tingling with nerves and anticipation. 

“Putting my number in your phone!” Daisy declared. High on the courage from singing, and clinging to it, she fixed Simmons with a strong and meaningful stare as she handed the phone back. “You call me when you want to cash in all these favours I owe you.”

Simmons could feel her heart thudding. She was almost surprised her whole body wasn’t shaking with the effort. But still, she kept her eyes fixed on Daisy in much the same way Daisy had with her, and decisively pressed  _CALL._


End file.
